


My Day of Trouble

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Henry IV - Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can but say I love, plain and in full."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Day of Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This is also a  <i>Henry V</i> story, as one of the characters only appears there but can be extrapolated into <i>Henry IV</i>
> 
> Written for the_red_shoes

 

 

 _In my day of trouble, may God send me such a friend._ \-- Mary Renault

Clamorous war and wailing death have had their day in Shrewsbury; passing onward at last, they leave behind weary quiet and hard-won peace. The dead having been buried with full rites, the wounded tended with charity, and the prisoners secured against any resurgence, King Henry and his nobles have given thanks for their victory and one and all sought their tent-cots and their sleep.

Yet two friends lie wakeful together in the small close hours before dawn. A single candle burns in an iron cage on a pole, its golden light spilling over the smooth back of a young man; it glints off his fair hair, tints tawny the white bandages round his face and arm, glows upon the strong leg his companion has thrown round his waist. Slick skin slides upon skin, lip smacks against lip, the shoulder of the lad below bunches and eases in time with the rocking of the one above. But little time and the kiss-noises grow louder and wetter, the united pulse of their movement speeds in frantic force until a muffled cry breaks as the young men shudder as one, completed and spent.

"Ah, my Scroop," breathes Henry, Prince of Wales, his voice soft and hoarse that rang clarion-clear across the day's battle. "My second Henry." His unhurt arm giving beneath him, the one swathed in bandages held carefully aside, Prince Hal sinks sideways and collapses upon the bed, the tide of his breath breaking into gasps. "I die, I die, and live again in your eyes."

His bedfellow, Henry Scroop, son and heir of Baron Scrope of Masham, laughs fondly at his prince, smudging his sword hand across the coverlet as he reaches to ease Hal down onto the mattress. "What dead man's blood surged yet so strongly in its accustomed courses?" His fingers slide up Hal's flank as if tracing the flow.

Prince Hal draws his mouth into a scowl, though his eyes remain bright and merry. "And is it thus you mock my heart's utterance? Cruel, my Masham, cruel."

"I have not a florid royal tongue." Scroop pulls himself closer by his grip on Hal's shoulder, then strokes the curve of muscle. "I can but say I love, plain and in full--" He likely would speak more, but Hal's bandaged hand shapes itself to his cheek, Hal's thumb brushes lightly over the split place in his lip, the flesh giving tenderly beneath the soft press. Scroop's breath spills out in a long sated sigh, his gaze holding the prince's as his eyes slowly fall shut.

"As so can I," says Hal softly, lips very near Scroop's brow, "and plainly name you my true friend."

Scroop's eyes flare open at that, his smile tilting up to Hal's. "And what of your merry fat knight and his crew of rogues?" he asks, voice light and jesting. "Do I but rate in his lewd company?"

He smiles wider until Hal's fades; then his does too, a puzzled crease infalling between his brows. "Ah, good Sir John," says Hal, and his head slowly sinks till his cheek rests on Scroop's shoulder. "My merry fat knight indeed. I must set him aside soon, as a youth lays down toys to free his grip for arms."

"Well done and better seen." Scroop pauses a moment, gazing down upon Hal's fair tousled head, then lifts his hand and lowers it in a hesitant stroke through Hal's hair. "All the court murmurs at your idle companions, fearful that thieves and knaves shall be your counselors and our masters when yours is the crown." 

Scroop takes a silent breath or more, but Hal lies unmoving, head still bowed beneath his hand. "Even my own father, who has known you from we were laid in one cradle, who should judge better than most the heft of a prince's friendship, would forbid me your company to remand me from theirs." Unsmiling Hal lifts his head at this, and Scroop blinks once, resting his hand behind Hal's neck, considering a moment. "I but lay before you my small discovery, my prince. Would a true friend deny you any aid, be it however bitter?"

Hal smiles then, and leans in to kiss Scroop, who sighs and holds him fast for a time marked only by the soft sounds of traded breaths and the sleeping darkness beyond their tent. At length, Hal pulls back, propping his hale elbow beside Scroop's head and his chin upon that hand. "A true friend you are indeed, to tell me naught I do not know, much I must hear." 

Scroop's eyes widen as Hal lays two bandaged fingers' tips upon his mouth. "I'll tell you my thought, my careful Masham, if you will shut your lips on the tale." Scroop nods his acquiescence, pursing his lips to kiss Hal's fingers, and Hal's cheek creases. "The King my father summoned me upon this account, to try my heart and prove its colour, base metal or true nobility. He told me that I stood to Harry Hotspur now as the former Richard did to him when he embarked upon the kingship." Scroop's indrawn breath is loud in the little tent, but the candlelight glows on Hal's fierce and sated smile. "I trust he now finds our tales reversed, the brave and storied Percy fallen to my sword and all his martial glories a garland to my brow."

"Indeed," Scroop murmurs, eyes round and glinting, and Hal smiles down upon him, benevolent and fond. 

"In turn I tested in my royal father my design. His Majesty's joy in my deeds and in my brother John's was like a man's who first beholds the radiant Sun; by far the greatest part of our glory in his eyes is astonishment at John's youth and my resurrected honor." As he listens, gazing up into Hal's eyes, Scroop's smile widens all unknowingly from confusion to elation. "As with the King so with all the people, when I stand before them shed of my pastime of carousal and villainies, an unlooked-for wonder sprung from a seeming wastrel."

"Oh, my prince." Scroop shakes his head, his face alight. "An act of wisdom worthy of a wily graybeard! And so you will conquer all hearts, and win an eager tribute of love from your subjects."

"All save one." Hal drops his hand to Scroop's cheek again, settling them nose to nose and heart to heart. "All save yours, my chief citadel, my dearest fortress."

The color rises in Scroop's cheek between Hal's fingers, as Hal leans down for a swift kiss. "So shall I cloak myself in dull company," he murmurs, "until my time to shine forth, for as long as you know my true nature I shall know myself in truth." Face creasing with a wince, Hal pulls his bandaged arm beneath him; Scroop lifts his hands to bear him up, but Hal shakes his head as with bandaged hand and whole he frames Scroop's face. "Will you do this for me, my second Henry? This is the depth of my counsels; will you bear them in full?"

"Ever and always!" Between Hal's hands, Scroop's smile shines. "From now until the ending of the world am I yours, my prince, my future King."

Hal's lips part with his smile, and he kisses Scroop with joyful force that Scroop returns with eager interest, rearing up to tip them both to their sides, wreathed in each other's arms arms. The kiss breaks on breathlessness, and when Hal yawns both lads gasp in laughter as they look upon each other's faces.

"Do not say I weary," Hal warns Scroop, who eyes him sidelong, "for majesty never flags or fades."

"Then I shall own my blood, which even in its nobility ebbs low with the night." Scroop yawns, spreading his fingers over Hal's heart, and closes his eyes.

"And I shall share your slumber as I shall share all my subjects' conditions." Scroop smiles at these words, but at Hal's next casts his gaze up again. "I know not what I should do without you, my Masham. All men seek the Prince, even those who whisper behind at his rashness, but who but you and jolly Falstaff would have towhead Hal?" Who sighs, gaze fixed beyond the canvas walls of their little pavilion. "And he, though it comes hard, I must soon lay aside."

"Nor must you ever know, my prince." Scroop lays his upper hand upon Hal's wrist. "I will ever be at your hand."

"And in all my days of trouble, I cannot but prevail with you beside me." Hal kisses Scroop once more, a soft press of lips and a traded breath; the two friends lie still and close, brows resting together and mirrored smiles on both faces, as the candle gutters towards darkness and they finally surrender to sleep. 

 


End file.
